


subdue

by hikaie



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Vague Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul swallows thickly and drops to his knees. “Oh, fuck.” He whispers. “Oh, God.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	subdue

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i pooped this out in like... MAYBE thirty minutes it's just a lil self-indulgent death!fic cause i felt like writing. hope its decent !!

She dies and he can feel it.

It is not a quiet Sunday afternoon; there are no soft goodbyes, sunlight streaming through the window, no symbolic wilted flowers on the nightstand. He doesn’t get to see her in her last moments.

He kneels in a puddle of milk in the supermarket, the plastic gallon still bubbling at the place where it split. His pants are soaked through and his whole chest hurts, like Italy all over again. There’s a woman looking at him with pity and the store manager, who knows him, knows them both, is staring at him wide eyed from where he’d been stocking the eggs.

She’s long gone when he gets to the hospital.

 

The funeral is on a Thursday, and he makes it through the entire thing until the end when Black*Star comes up to him and he starts hysterically laughing at the slick, neat side part in his hair. So clean cut it makes Soul laugh himself to tears. (It’s what he tells himself.)

He falls asleep on the couch in his crumpled suit with Blair sleeping on his chest that night.

 

“I can’t give you more leave than this Soul. Not… not right now. With the treaty still in the early stages. I’m sorry.” Kid tells him over the phone one evening roughly a month in. It rings nonstop for a week afterward until he cuts the cord to it.

 

They go on a mission in Turkey and resonating with Kid feels like agony, like drowning, like if he could die ten thousand times it wouldn’t make up for what feels like a cardinal sin. He defects just outside of Bulgaria, takes a train all the way to France and doesn’t think about how Maka always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. (“I’ll take you.” He’d said. She’d laughed.)

 

A meister senses him in Austria and he spends a solid half hour feeling like he’s going to have a heart attack, fumbling down alleyways in the dark. He hits a fence, wheels on them in the dark (and his blade is out and his chest twinges and they look at him with pity and say they’re not going to tell. They wouldn’t tell. Who can imagine the pain of Soul’s loss?)

 

He spends a restless weekend at the townhouse in Amsterdam, thinks about shaving the five months of accumulation on his face. (Some of it’s from before he went AWOL.)

He cuts all of his hair off, instead.

 

When they find him he’s been living in Norway for two years. Kid’s different- they’re all different and he has no one, and battling by himself has never matched up. Even before she died. He doesn’t even try, just looks at them and smiles and lets Kid grab him by the collar and give him the meanest glare he’s ever seen.

“We all missed her-” Kid starts off, quiet and seething. Soul smiles wide and looks away.

“Fuck off.” The first punch isn’t a surprise- it’s the second one that throws him off.

 

There’s a chipped stone bench set off in front of her grave. White lilies curl in the hot Nevada sun. He fiddles with the hair tie in his hands.

“I missed you it- it never stops, Maka.” He twists the band around his pinky and loops his opposite thumb through it. “I tried to see them all. Big Ben was the worst- I always told you it was nothing special.” He smiles at the grass and squints through the sun at the car waiting for him off the main drive. Soul sighs softly. “I guess this is goodbye, then.” He stands, leans down, and drops the ribbon and scrunchie on top of the mass of lilies over her grave. When he straightens up, he rubs at the still-tender skin around his eyes, has to gently dip his thumb in and rub at his lower eyelid.

“Goodbye.” He walks to the car and doesn’t look back.


End file.
